


trans stan drabbles

by fevermachine



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Autistic Pines Family, Gen, Trans Male Character, Trans Stan, Trans Stan Pines, trans ford also shows up but it's only in one chapter right now so idk if I should tag it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 17:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21479956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fevermachine/pseuds/fevermachine
Summary: A collection of non-sequential drabbles about Stan Pines being trans. Warnings for each individual chapter will be in the notes at the beginning. There's no real update schedule for this at the moment, I'll just kinda throw chapters in when I feel like it.
Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines, others to be added once I have more written!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	1. Stomachaches

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for a trans guy experiencing menstruation. Nothing graphic, obviously.

Stan’s just sitting in class, minding his own fucking business, when it starts. Okay, maybe he’s actually launching spitballs at the dude to his left, but Stan’s arbitrarily chosen that as his business for this class period. It’s not like he’s gonna pay attention in history. He has Ford, who’s sitting on his right, to do that for him. Ford’s always willing to let him copy his notes. Cool guy, his twin brother. 

Stan feels the beginnings of it long before he sees it, but that’s usually how these things go. First comes the uncomfortable tightness in his abdomen, swirling around his gut like it’s got something to prove. It feels almost like adrenaline, or maybe a weird version of arousal, but something about it is just a little too sickening. At first, Stan thinks he’s just getting sick. Maybe he finally caught the stomach bug Ford’s been fending off with a stick for the past week. He’s felt pretty weird the past couple of days, and a stomach bug would certainly explain it.

Next comes the nausea, which hits him like one of those cliche falling pianos as he gets up to head to the bathroom. With a sinking feeling, Stan begins to realize exactly what’s happening. Fuck.

“Pines,” the teacher barks, because he still won’t use Stan’s first name for some unfathomable reason. Well, okay, the reason is fathomable, but it still sucks. “Sit back down.”

“I gotta piss,” Stan counters, shoving his chair into his desk so hard that it rattles. He can’t stand his fucking teachers. They all treat him like dirt just because he isn’t his brother, Glass Shard Beach’s one and only boy genius. Out of the corner of his eye, Stan catches Ford looking up at him with concern, but doesn’t do anything to address it. They’ve got lunch next, he’ll explain it then.

The teacher looks annoyed, but doesn’t stop Stan from leaving the classroom. Armed with this newfound freedom, Stan sprints as fast as he can to the men’s room. It’s the middle of the class period, so he should be okay to go in there. Once he arrives, he cracks the door open to double check. Sure enough, nobody’s in there who would harass him for existing. Stan enters the stall furthest from the door, then yanks his pants down to assess the damage.

Just as he suspected, his boxers have a light smattering of blood in them. “Fuckin’ gross,” Stan mutters. He doesn’t like having his particular set of downstairs equipment for obvious reasons, but the fact that it pukes blood once a month makes the whole ordeal even more annoying. And, of course, he doesn’t have anything on him to staunch the flow. Stan groans. Classic. Time to get creative.

Stan grabs a wad of toilet paper in his fist and shoves it into his boxers, making sure to completely cover anywhere the blood hit. Glass Shard Beach High doesn’t invest in the highest quality sanitary supplies, unfortunately, so he’s probably gonna have to trash these guys. If nothing else, the makeshift padding will ensure that his pants don’t develop a painfully obvious stain. Satisfied with his work, Stan pulls his jeans back up and heads back to class. 

The teacher glares at him as he re-enters the classroom, which Stan resolutely ignores. It’s unfortunately a pretty typical experience for him. Slumping back into his chair, he preps another spitball for the kid to his left. At least not everything about today is shit- he’s got boxing practice later, and lunch with Ford. Stan’s not exactly an optimist, but he’d say the good outweighs the bad today.


	2. Keeping Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan stretches, and his ribs do that annoying thing they usually do when he’s been binding for too long. Snap crackle pop, Ford used to call him because of it, and then he’d bully Stan into wearing a sweater for the rest of the day so he could give his ribs a rest. Unfortunately for his overworked ribcage, however, Ford isn’t around to tell him to take care of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a depiction of unsafe binding. Remember to always bind safely!

Stan stretches, and his ribs do that annoying thing they usually do when he’s been binding for too long. Snap crackle pop, Ford used to call him because of it, and then he’d bully Stan into wearing a sweater for the rest of the day so he could give his ribs a rest. On sweater days, he and Ford would hole up in their shared room and just hang out, and occasionally Ford would make Stan do breathing exercises to make sure his lungs were good. It was really endearing how much Ford cared. Unfortunately for his overworked ribcage, however, Ford isn’t around to tell him to take care of himself. Stan’s an adult, and he can make any stupid decisions he wants to.

It’s gotten cold in- actually, he has no idea where he is right now. Stan checks the map taped to the inside of his sun visor, squints at the tiny print indicating where he is, then decides he’s probably in Michigan. It would make sense, based off of the weather and the fact that he hasn’t been banned from this state yet. Anyway, it’s cold in Michigan, and wearing his binder all the time does have the added effect of keeping him warm. His shitty, fast food stained red jacket does an okay job of keeping him alive and kicking, but there’s a chilled ache in his bones that it can never quite get rid of. The binder keeps his torso warm, and gives him the added bonus of looking more like himself. 

He knows it’s dangerous, sure, but it’s a lesser evil compared to most of the shit he’s dealing with. When you’re living out of your car and doing odd, often sketchy jobs to stay alive, keeping your ribs and chest safe becomes less of a priority. Besides, if most of his employers knew he was trans there’d be way more of a risk to his ribs. 

All of this is essentially just a good way to excuse the fact that he isn’t properly taking care of himself, if Stan’s being honest. But when is he ever honest? Everything’s totally fine, as long as he doesn’t think about it for too long. He peeks at himself in the mirror attached to his sun visor and winces at how nasty he looks. Eh, at least the greasiness adds to how masculine he looks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought, or whether you have a specific trans Stan drabble you want written! here’s my tumblr if you wanna come shout about Stan with me.


	3. Bad Texture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby trans Stan content! Also the Stan twins are autistic and you can’t change my mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for canon typical depictions of their parents (aka Filbrick is abusive) as well as some mild, non-graphic transphobia and ableism.

“Ford,” Stan mumbles into his pillow, “do you think I’m a bad kid?” He’s half hidden under his duvet, shaking one of his legs up and down in an attempt to calm himself. His head is the only thing poking out of the blanket, and that’s only so he can see Ford sitting on the floor.

Ford stops painstakingly trying to color in the drawing of a two headed calf he’s working on and looks over at Stan, green crayon still clutched in his six-fingered grip. 

“No,” he says after a moment of thought, “I don’t think so. Is this about Pa?”

“Yeah,” Stan says, because honestly everything’s about Pa. “Today he yelled at me for not wearing a skirt. I hate skirts. They’re gross and girly, and they don’t feel good.” 

In fact, skirts felt so bad that Stan had thrown a huge fit about it, and Pa had shouted at him so hard that his ears stopped processing any of the words and all he knew was loud and scary and too much. He’d gotten to wear pants, but Pa had called him the same word a lot of kids at school used for him when his hands got all flappy during class. It sucked.

Ford nods at that sagely, although he’s never had to wear a skirt before. “They seem like a bad texture.”

“They are,” Stan groans. “I just wanna be able to dress like you! You never have to wear any of that stuff, and Pa never gets mad at you for it either.”

Ford frowns. “Yeah, I’m confused about that. Why don’t I have to wear them?”

Stan shrugs. “I dunno. Is it, like, a six finger thing?”

“I don’t think so. I asked Ma one time, and she says it’s because I’m a boy, but that’s silly because you’re a boy too.”

“Yeah!” Stan half shouts, excited that his brother gets it. “I didn’t think you’d remembered that!”

“I remember everything you tell me,” Ford says seriously. “It’s important. Speaking of you being a boy, do you know your name yet?”

Ford had been calling Stan his brother or bro at school, while at home he tried his best to gesture to Stan around their parents instead of using the bad name. It was really nice of him. Nobody else really tried to use the right name for him.

He thinks about it for a sec before the idea hits him. Stan sits up rapidly, the duvet falling off of his small frame. “I wanna be Stan!” 

Ford giggles. “But that’s my name!”

“No, you’re Ford! I’ll be Stan, since we’re the same but also different. Stanley can be the big version of my name, so people don’t get us confused.”

Ford nods sagely. “I like that. Good name choice, Stan.”

He grins at his brother, and Stan grins right back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought, or whether you have a specific trans Stan drabble you want written! here’s my tumblr if you wanna come shout about Stan with me.


	4. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Ford see each other for the first time in ten years, and realize quite a lot has changed. Featuring trans Ford as well!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for vague discussion of probably unsafe transition methods, as well as vague discussion of trauma.

Stan raps on the door of Ford’s house and is immediately greeted with a crossbow to the face.   
“Have you come to steal my eyes?” Ford yells, as if eyeball theft is common in the town of Gravity Falls. It’s a sleepy fuckin’ town- Stan would be surprised if any theft at all was common here. Nothing like a visiting conman to change that.

“Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome,” he replies, only half joking, and Ford lowers the crossbow.

His brother looks like shit, almost worse than he does himself. Ford’s eyes are bloodshot and have heavy bags beneath them, as if he hasn’t slept in weeks. His hair is sticking out in all directions like it always did before synagogue, but this time there’s no one around to force him to comb it down. Despite the fact that he’s clearly in some kind of trouble, though, Stan can’t help but notice that Ford’s got an abundance of five-o-clock shadow and a very flat chest.

“Shit, Stanley. Sorry, I-” Ford glances around manically, as if he’s being watched, then yanks Stan inside. Thank fuck for that, too, because it was freezing out there.

The second thing Stan says to his estranged brother is, “You look good.” It’s partially a lie, because Ford very clearly doesn’t look okay, but he at least looks more at home in his body than he did when they were both seventeen and afraid.

“Uh, thanks,” Ford says. “You- you too.” His eyes dart around nervously again, and Stan’s hands instinctively ball into fists inside his jacket pockets. Whatever’s got his brother so freaked out seems to be much worse than Stan initially thought.

Stan snorts at Ford’s compliment. “Nah, I know what I look like, Ford. You don’t have to lie about it, I’m not that fuckin’ vain.” Moses knows his mullet isn’t doing him any wonders in the looks department. As for the rest of him, well, he hasn’t showered in about a month. 

“I meant the transition, Stanley, and you know it,” Ford mutters tersely, although Stan can tell he’s not that annoyed. It’s true though, he had known Ford was complimenting him on his stubble and equally flat chest. It’s not exactly an easy change to miss. He looks incredibly different from how he did at seventeen, and he supposes that he’s much more at home in his body, too. 

“So, how did you, uh,” Ford gestures to all of Stan in lieu of asking, which is hilarious. “I mean, I know how it works, I just doubt you were able to go about it the way I did.”

Stan laughs. “Yeah, you got that right, Poindexter.” The old childhood nickname slips from his lips like no time has passed at all. “Not exactly a lot of good transition options available when you’re homeless.”

Ford cringes, and Stan suddenly remembers that the whole homeless thing is probably iffier for other people than it is for him. Which would make sense- that shit’s dangerous. But he’s here, isn’t he? That more than makes up for it. Nothin’ to worry about here, folks. He’s still alive and kicking, and really that’s all that matters.

“Sorry,” Stan says, even though he isn’t, and Ford brushes it off. “To answer your question, mostly through very illegal means. Turns out that hospitals in Columbia have very lax security and a doc or two who’ll do surgeries on the cheap.” 

Stan doesn’t like to think about his time in Columbia- too many old ghosts- but the transition was one of the things he could speak about relatively freely. How he went about paying for his transition, and whether that payment consisted of money, wasn’t something he liked to think about. That didn’t really matter, though, because Ford didn’t need to know about how he’d afforded it. This wasn’t the Stanley Pines trauma hour.

“Anyway,” Stan says, “Back to the topic at hand. What the hell is going on?”

Ford lets a breath of air hiss out from between his clenched teeth. His eyes are back to darting around the room nervously. “Listen, Stanley, there isn't much time. I've made huge mistakes, and I don't know who I can trust anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought, or whether you have a specific trans Stan drabble you want written! here’s my tumblr if you wanna come shout about Stan with me.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought, or whether you have a specific trans Stan drabble you want written! also, here’s my tumblr if you wanna come shout about Stan with me.


End file.
